"Sex without love is a meaningless experience, but as far as meaningless experiences go it's pretty damn good." ~ Woody Allen

Chapter Forty: Heart Skipped A Beat

Now that Gerard was given the floor to defend him, Draco got to see more of the positive memories from Hogwarts, Sweden and Alaska. It was not enough to pull him out of the funk he was growing into, however; the kindness that Potter and Nora were showing him was doing very little for his self-image. While he should have felt good that he was "worth" saving, or helping at least, in actuality it just made him feel unworthy.

After everything he had done to Potter, he was helping him out?

It didn't make sense.

You and I are not so different, Malfoy, Potter had said the previous day.

Draco shook his head, leaning back against the frigid stone wall of his holding cell. He had always been jealous of Potter's resilience, of his popularity, his skills. Whether he admitted it or not, Potter was what Draco could have been, if circumstances had been different.

I just don't mind showing weakness, and trusting people. I know that under all that bullshit you project, you really just want someone to care. Draco had scoffed, though his hunched shoulders and downcast gaze had affirmed Potter's statement anyway.

Hermione cared, at least he thought she did, and really that's all he needed. It was a start, right? Everyone else just made him uncomfortable.

This is what good, decent people do. I'm sorry you never knew.

Even Nora seemed to care about him in some way.

Metallic clicks brought him out of his thoughts as a guard unlocked his door. "Alright, Malfoy, time to go."

He stood up, straightened his prison garb and made for the cell door.

Though the trial seemed to go without many hiccups, Hermione was still wracked with worry.

Her research had slowed down and her inspiration had plateaued, even though she had searched through every Death Eater law she could find. There were some useful things that could potentially get him a shorter sentence, but even with that he would have to spend a minimum of ten years in Azkaban before those options even became available. And that was only for the charge of the Dark Mark. It did not factor in his punishment for treason, use of Unforgivables, assault, and any of the other charges brought against him. She knew that he could offer the Ministry detailed information about the inner workings of the Death Eaters, but now that they were mostly disbanded it did not seem as valuable.

What information was valuable, however, were spells, dueling techniques, and dark artifact suppliers. Draco could easily give that up.

Hermione tried not to think about what the Death Eaters in Azkaban would do once they found out how much information Draco was giving the Ministry.

She didn't want to think about him being hurt while he was there… ex Death Eaters often got released with missing limbs, broken spirits, or wild eyes (as with Bellatrix Lestrange.) How normal was he going to be once he was free? Was he going to be permanently scarred from the experience, putting a strain on their relationship, or would he just appreciate the start of a normal life?

Would they be able to do everything that normal couples did? Hermione pictured a candlelit dinner in a garden, skipping over puddles in the rain … Draco's hands popping open her shirt buttons and pushing the fabric off her shoulders…

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Hermione ground out, smacking herself on the temple.

Ever since her conversation with Ginny, her thoughts kept going back to that particular topic and it was distracting. She breathed in and out for a few seconds, getting control of her heart rate, before she took up her quill again.

Why was she so afraid to think about it anyway? Everyone had done it. Her parents had done it, otherwise, she wouldn't be alive. Even Ginny and Harry had gone at it before. How had that escaped her notice?

It was fine for her to think about it, after all, they were together. The soul-speaking thing wasn't proper sex anyway.

She shook her head, smacking herself again as she thought of the intense intimacy that they had shared with that connection.

Hermione honestly couldn't believe that she had done that, and even more so, more than once. It had happened on several occasions, enough to where she had stopped counting. Though the memories of each occasion were fading now that it had been a month or two, she could distinctly remember the shared space, the way his emotions and thoughts would wash over her, uninhibited and untarnished by his insecurity, like the needy feeling of his hands on her skin…

Her cheeks grew hot.

He didn't seem like a "sexual" person, like Ginny did. He had told her on numerous occasions, back in the beginning, that her distrust of his intentions was insulting and that sex was "the farthest thing from his mind." And though he had nudged her along most of the time when they were fooling around, it didn't seem like it was for himself.

She allowed herself a small smile. Maybe he was actually a gentleman, under that smug prick exterior.

Shaking her head, Hermione sighed, resigned to the fact that she wasn't likely to get any more research done today.

Besides, if she didn't find a way to make Draco's charges go away, the possibility of them having sex would never be a reality.

"Does no good deed go unpunished? He knew he was risking himself in order to foil the Death Eaters' plans and protect Miss Granger. He nearly single-handedly brought them down and we are sending him to Azkaban? I see a flaw in our system!"

"He did not bring down the Dark Lord's followers, the brave men and women of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement did!"

"He was responsible for that!"

"He was responsible for nothing but himself. He would not even divulge the location to the Ministry when he had the chance, a full month before they eventually had to get it themselves! I would not call that 'responsible'."

"Mr. Malfoy just did not trust anyone; he knew that the Dark Lord always had moles in the Ministry, so he had to protect his knowledge of the location in case that was still true! The problem is that our system does not incorporate intent. The law is black and white, but crimes are not!"

"Objection - this is not a convention to reform the wizarding constitution!"

The Minister massaged his temples. "Sustained. And if we are through with the argument, can the defense call its next witness?"

Gerard nodded compliantly, careful to keep his composure when directly addressed by the Minister. He looked briefly at the rest of the Wizengamot; they looked especially bored, only kept focused by the unfolding of an argument that had no precedent in this tightly calm trial.

The jury however sat with rapt attention, apparently intrigued by the intricacies of the trial and entertained by the warring sides.

"The defense calls Pansy Parkinson to the stand."

Though she still maintained the air of self-entitlement that she'd had while at school, her demeanor was more lethargic than menacing. Her worry over Draco's fate had dulled her usual ferocity. They locked eyes as she walked past him; she tried to convey how sorry she was, but she wasn't sure if he saw it.

Once seated, her wand in the hands of the record keeper, Gerard faced her squarely.

"Can you tell us about your relationship with Draco Malfoy?"

"We were close friends in school. And we dated for a bit."

Gerard nodded, ignoring the prosecutor's smirk. He already knew how she was going to twist things. "Can you tell us about your sixth year at Hogwarts?"

"It was… difficult. With preparing for N.E.W.T.s and everything." She swallowed, knowing her answer was lame.

"What was Slytherin House like around this time, with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on the rise?"

Pansy's eyes clouded over briefly as she seemed to get the courage to respond honestly. "It seemed like a normal year, except we all knew that wasn't true. Our... our parents were preoccupied with the Dark Lord's plans, and their letters of reassurance were few and far between. No one else at the school seemed to understand this. It was like a secret within our house, a shared… knowledge."

"Did you know that Mr. Malfoy was involved directly?"

"No, but he wasn't particularly good at hiding it either way. He seemed the most affected out of all of us. He was… silent a lot. And when he did talk, he would say things that seemed so out of place."

"Did he ever try to tell you?"

Pansy looked over at Draco; he was staring at a point over her shoulder, his eyes slightly unseeing. "Towards the end of the year, he did."

"What did he say?"

She looked suddenly uncomfortable. "He pulled me aside, and was talking non-sense, about us all being safe, and about the school. And he kept saying, 'you don't know what I've done.'"

Gerard nodded reassuringly to Pansy, indicating that she was doing well, and looked up at the Minister. "Does the Wizengamot need memory evidence for this claim?"

The Minister looked around at the wizards and witches around him, gauging their reactions, then shook his head. "No. You may proceed."

If Gerard was put off by the Wizengamot's lack of interest he did not show it. "What was your romantic relationship like?"

Pansy looked back to Draco; he was definitely looking at her now. "It… was fine. We knew it wouldn't last, and he was very distracted with his own problems… but I had no complaints."

Draco grimaced.

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson." Gerard gestured to the prosecutor cordially, returning to his table.

The prosecutor set the parchment she had been examining back on the table and stood, coming towards Pansy with slow steps.

"Miss Parkinson, when you said Draco seemed 'distracted' during your relationship… what did you mean by that?"

"I assumed it was because… well, everyone knew that his father had fallen out of the Dark Lord's favor. I originally thought he was just trying not to be around too much in case anyone in our house gave him trouble about it. I know now it was specifically because he had been Marked and given a task by the Dark Lord."

"So he didn't try to confide in you… ever… when you were romantically involved?"

Pansy's expression dipped into irritation. "Sometimes he would tell me that he needed to talk to me about something, but when I would find him later to talk, he would just… bottle it down. And pretend he was fine."

"Did you know, then, that he had been Marked?"

"Yes. He didn't try especially hard to cover it."

"But he didn't talk to you about it."

"No."

"He never expressed his concerns about his parents, or anything of that nature?"

She swallowed. "No."

"And he didn't speak about why he had become a Death Eater."

"He said he had been chosen by the Dark Lord himself. That was it."

"Did he seem proud of this fact?"

Pansy's eyes narrowed at the prosecutor, then scanned the spectators and the jury. She turned back, looking directly at Draco. "No one was ever really 'proud' to join him. Joining him… honestly, we all hate our parents for it. It wasn't strength, it was weakness. He just used us for our money."

"But was Mr. Malfoy proud?"

"He wasn't really - "

"Yes or no."

"No," she ground out, realizing how unconvincing she sounded.

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson."

Pansy leaped out of her chair, eager to get out from under the scrutinous gaze of everyone in the room.

Hermione's thoughts about Draco were getting out of hand. She couldn't close her eyes without thinking about the time they spent together and what they should have done, those months.

She thought about the days they spent in Canada, him absently stroking her hair or her arm. She thought about the nights, where his breath on her neck made her shiver, and she would scoot closer to him in response until he was holding her so tightly she was sure he would absorb her.

She thought about the showers they had shared, him running his fingers through her hair, dragging out loose strands and massaging her neck and shoulders. She thought about how utterly delicious his mouth had been after they had feasted on fruits and pastries, and how she never wanted to stop kissing him.

These thoughts were an ever present distraction to her daily activities. So instead of letting it further distract her from her research, forcing her out of her comfort zone, she turned it into something she could digest: a different kind of research.

Hermione sighed as she flipped open her brand new copy of Sex for the Well Informed Witch, trying to convince herself to just get it over with and read the darn thing.

"Wizards and witches have had the best sex for centuries."

Well, it wasn't a very convincing start. She snorted and went on.

"The unique experience shared by two magical beings transcends history, and though many have studied it, it has never been fully understood." That sounded promising. "So difficult it has been for scholars to map out the nuances of such a unique connection - "

Probably because they were too busy planting their noses in books, Hermione thought sourly.

"What are you reading?"

Hermione looked up in alarm, shoving the book to the floor with a resounding thump. "Who's reading what? When did you… what?"

Harry shook his head, his accusatory look dissolving into amusement at her shoddy attempt to cover herself. "I've been knocking for some time. The door was open."

"Oh," Hermione scratched at her scalp, nudging the book further under the table with her foot, and cringing when the linen cover scraped against her hardwood floor. Harry quirked his head to the side knowingly and bent to pick the book up. Hermione waited for his reaction, her face already pink.

"What the fuck," Harry muttered, flipping to a random page. "You can't be serious."

Suddenly Hermione was irritated. "Don't judge me," she replied crossly. "You and Ginny have been fooling around for ages."

"That's different - " he began, but quickly piped down when he remembered that he was supposed to be understanding and helpful about her situation, not lecture her about it.

"No, it's not different."

Harry sighed and scrunched up his shoulders, having the decency to look like he was sorry. "I know. Maybe I'm not the best person to talk to about this."

Hermione shook her head, already numb to the topic, her cheeks beginning to return to normal. "Well, I've tried talking to Ginny about it. I'm not sure I can deal with that again." She didn't really like the way Ginny tossed out certain phrases like they weren't embarrassing to think about. While they may seem normal enough to her, to Hermione they were exactly what she didn't want to think about when she thought about being intimate with someone.

She wanted to find something deeper than all that. Something deeper than getting fingered, than fucking someone. Something deeper than… putting her discarded knickers back on and returning to what she was doing before. Was that so wrong?

"You can't read about how to do this in a book, Hermione - "

"Watch me," she retorted, snatching the book out of his hands before he could pry into it further.

Harry shook his head. "You know what I mean."

"Look," she said quietly, turning back to the first page, "this may sound pathetic, but this is how I deal with things I don't understand - I trust the people who are supposedly experts on the matter, the ones who literally write the books. That's what I do."

"That's not pathetic." He paused, trying to find a way to word his next statement, and smiled a bit. "Maybe if Ron and I had read a book or two, things would have been easier for us… "

She recognized when her friends began to appeal to her scholastic vanity or basically just agree with her to shut her up, but she sighed and nodded all the same. She still appreciated the effort. Besides, she didn't really want to think about how Harry and Ron, or any of her friends for that matter, learned about sex. Ron had been a little too eager to progress to that side of their relationship, and though they had never gotten a chance to do more than cuddle, she didn't miss the expectation, or his sigh of exasperation when she stopped him from doing something she wasn't comfortable with.

"There is nothing wrong with wanting to have sex with someone. Everyone does it."

"Right. We're done discussing this," Hermione said, her cheeks pink again. "Do you have news from Nora? The Prophet didn't have anything substantial to say about the actual goings-on."

Harry shrugged and took the seat across from her. "Same as usual. Gerard is doing a great job defending him."

But what difference is it going to make?

"When is it that you go on the stand?"

"A week, maybe less."

"Are you prepared?"

This was probably the first time Harry had ever asked her if she was prepared for anything, but it was for good reason. Her testimony, they knew, could shave years off of his sentence. "I don't know if I am or not, honestly," she replied, absently flipping pages in Sex for the Well Informed Witch. "I don't feel prepared, and that's the important thing."

Harry nodded, trying to catch her eye but failing, as she was focused on her book and unwilling to look up. "Have you eaten today? I'll make us something."

She met his eyes then, taking in his genuinely concerned expression, and smiled sheepishly. "I haven't. I'll have what you're making." She paused. "Thank you for checking up on me these weeks."

He shrugged, grinning. "I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't, would I?"

Author's note: Home stretch guys! Five or so chapters left. I know the spaced updates have been painful. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!